


Expectations

by HardingHightown



Series: The Stone Calls (Rhein Aeducan) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23761288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardingHightown/pseuds/HardingHightown
Summary: During the events of Inquisition, Paragon Aeducan visits an old friend.
Series: The Stone Calls (Rhein Aeducan) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729891
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Expectations

The journey had been difficult, though she knew it would be. She had embarked from Amaranthine enough times by sea to know the pattern now. The port itself was well-protected from the elements, but the further north you would venture the more treacherous the seas. This was the first time she had ventured north of Antiva, and the sea-sickness this time had been so bad they paused a whole three days on Llomerryn so she could find her feet again. Ten years a surfacer and still she struggled to find her balance on the land.

Not that she was officially a surfacer, mind. Nor still the Arlessa of Amaranthine, or Warden Commander, or any such titles. When King Harrowmont pardoned her and Gorim and made her a living paragon all such titles were forfeit, and as far as the shaperate knew, as far as the world of Orzammar knew, she was deep in the ground, exorcising her democratic powers with Kal Sharok. Harrowmont, always soft for her, allowed her this lie - this lie amongst others. That her nephew Endrin was Trian’s son, not Bhelens, giving her an heir. That she hadn’t married the bastard Theirin. That Gorim was only her second, and nothing more. That she wasn’t dying.

When Corypheus’ fake-song ended, many of the remaining Wardens, she had been told, stopped hearing the song. Carver sent her a raven as soon as it had happened, his writing sloppy from excitement. But though it was dulled for her, she could hear it, tapping in the corners of her mind, a muffled sound from another room, another time. She saw the glint of something in the night again. She dreamed again.

When she knew, she knew that it was her duty to return one last time to the deep roads. She knew she would go there, finally, but only if… only if she couldn’t solve the puzzle. She remembered the first time she ventured in to the roads, just turned twenty-three years old, the first of Harrowmont’s great kindnesses to her as he risked his life to save hers. She remembered that she cried. That for a moment, she had forgotten herself. That she cried for Trian and Bhelen and her father and her mother then wiped her tears in the dirt, pulled herself to her feet, and made her way out of there and in to the light.

She would do it again. And if she couldn’t…

Well, if she couldn’t there would be people she would wish to say goodbye to.

Par Vollen was, strangely, exactly how she imagined it would be. Despite having no real frame of reference, and despite the lack of description forthcoming from her friend, it was the kind of place she expected would have made him. Before disembarking she tore off her plate armour, carefully hanging Trian’s maul on the hooks in her quarters and changing into light linens. She had nothing to fear here. If they killed her, it would be a quiet death.

When she disembarked, she was met by an escort of men in red paint carrying weapons. She had heard of other Qunari, yet she had seen precious few in her travels save the odd mercenary or warden recruit from the grey ones. Here they were different. Here, unified, they were something entirely new.

They lowered their weapons and spoke in their own tongue, but she caught the word she was looking for and so followed them. She followed to a glistening golden door that the men pushed open with much effort, revealing a long, darkened hall with only the slightest natural light. The room was cool from the moment she entered, her feet touching cold marble and the air free from the humidity that haunted the island. She looked to her escorts, who nodded for her to proceed towards the single throne at the end of the long room, which she did, her eyes adjusting quickly to see him again.

Bronzed skin, darker now than it had been in the clouds of Ferelden. Braids longer, neater and tighter. A beard, that was new. Red paint across his body, emphasising his size. New rings of gold in his ears, on his fingers, in his hair. The same lack of smile on his lips, betrayed by the smile in his eyes. She was glad that was still there.

“Atrast Vala, Arishok”

She bent at the waist, lowering her gaze from him as she had learned was custom for the dog lords and the emperor. She heard him grunt, a soft mocking tone she knew well.

“You have lost none of your charm, Kadan.”

She raised her head. “I have missed you, old friend.”

*

He took her on a walk across the hidden rooftops of his fortress, two more of his men (Karasaad, he had called him) trailing behind them and two more ahead. She had thought to question it but decided against it. She was sure that Orzammar would do the same had he come to see her. The thought of it almost made her laugh.

They walked mostly in silence, and she did not mind at all. She had missed silence with him more than anything. When they had found their rhythm together after fighting in the snow of Haven they often retreated away from the busy camp to tend to their weapons, no words, just the soft rhythm of blades on whetstone and buffing of armour. Yet she knew there were things she needed to say, things that she would run out of time to say.

“Par Vollen impresses me, Arishok.”

“I am unsurprised,” he replied dryly, eyes fixed out over the walls towards the docks. “You were giddy at every place we saw in Ferelden. No matter how it smelled.”

“You remember the smell, then?”

“Our senses are not as dull as yours. Unfortunately.”

She laughed softly, watching him closely. His eyes did not leave the horizon, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze nonetheless.

“You have aged, Kadan.”

“It’s been ten years, St-, Arishok. We’ve all aged.”

“You do not seem as you did.”

“Neither do you.”

“That is fair.”

She knew she had to keep speaking, but she wished it could just be this. This was comfortable. This was-

“You did not come here for idle talk, Kadan. You would not come here without purpose.”

“I would not. But I wish I had. Do you remember?”

He looked at her then. He did, evidently. During the revelries, before Gorim had joined her and told her they were pardoned, she had spoken to him of returning to Par Vollen. Two days time, and there would be a ship for both of them. 48 hours, that was all. She wondered how different it would be if she had come.

“You found your path, Paragon Aeducan.”

May you always find the path you seek, that was the last thing he had said to her in that room in Denerim. The path she sought the morning after was accepting a proposal from Alistair in the heat of the moment, trying to take him to Orzammar with her, parting with him swiftly and…

“Alistair is dead, Arishok. So my reports tell me. He died fighting Corypheus.”

“So my agents tell me. He was Basalit-An. He died for his cause, as is right, though many years too late.”

“His son is with the inquisition, I believe.”

“I know this too.”

“Your agents are quick.”

“They are…” his brow furrowed slightly. “They do as they should. You did not come to tell me this.”

“No, I suppose I did not.”

“It surprises me that you were not with him. His exile from the Wardens would have been important to you.”

“We…”

She thought it would be easy to say that they had grown apart, that she had been twenty-three and him barely twenty, basically children. That the quest ended and other quests begun, and they had other duties that kept them apart. That she had fallen back into Orzammar with ease, into the affair with Gorim with ease. That it was okay, that they were both fine with it. Yet she couldn’t know that, she couldn’t know he was okay with it. He sent message to her every month to her, for all of the ten years. She couldn’t remember the last one she had returned to him.

“We were on separate missions. He succeeded in his, despite his death. The others have stopped hearing it. The calling. But I…”

She realised she hadn’t said it out loud. She didn’t need to tell Gorim. He knew the moment she had sent him back to his wife and sons and he said nothing, just held her as they slept side by side for what she imagined would be the last time. She told Rica and Pyral by letter and left before they could open them. She would visit Leliana, and by extension likely Morrigan before her time was up, just not yet. Right now, she only wanted to be here.

“Alistair told me I had around ten years,” she continued, her voice quiet. “I knew that. But ten years… it goes so fast. And it doesn’t go the way you expect. I thought… I thought I had more time to be with those I love. More time away from my duties-”

“In the Qun, there is only our duty. It is all that there is, and all that we are.”

“I know. And you have fulfilled yours beyond anything I could have imagined.”

“As have you. Do not doubt it.”

Tentatively, she lay her hand on the stone next to his, their smallest fingers close to touching. She noted how much larger his were, but how they carried calloused skin in the same places.

“Were you disappointed when I did not join you on the boat to Par Vollen?” she asked, her eyes fixed on their hands.

He did not answer for a while. They stood in silence, looking out over the setting sun. Then, softly and without ado, his smallest finger touched hers.

“No.”

Pulling his hand back, he turned to face her.

“I did not expect it. I know you could have found your place in the Qun, and been happy in it. But you are stubborn, and wilful, and will find your own way to your duty. I know that about you. And I know that will not change.”

He started to walk back to the hall, the Karasaad following, and she took his lead. She would leave with the dawn, but for now, she enjoyed the silence.


End file.
